


A Couple of Cracked Eggs

by Writerboy (Hobbitrocious)



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Accidentally Scarred for Life, Community: shkinkmeme, Crack Crossover, Cursed Aztec Gold, Eunuchy Snip Snip, M/M, PWP, Rare Pairing, Sherlock Makes Deductions, Slash, hot wax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6331576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitrocious/pseuds/Writerboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a magical oops, a rift in time, briefly transports the Black Pearl to the nineteenth century, Captain Jack Sparrow's multi-continental lust and Sherlock Holmes's attraction to the unusual and macabre result in a memorable night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Couple of Cracked Eggs

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal's SHkinkmeme as a fill. Yes, someone actually prompted this. (2011 or 2012, I'm not sure anymore.)
> 
> And in case anyone was curious (I was), 'thrusted' *is* a word, it's just antiquated and fell out of use, and now most people don't recognise it as a proper conjugation of 'thrust'.
> 
> https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/thrusted  
> http://grammarist.com/usage/thrusted/

"This _science of deduction_ business is all well and good, but would'ja mind saving it for after I've done my poking?" the naked man with the Sparrow-and-Sun tattoo grumbled. The beads and coins woven into his hair tinkled as he thrusted.

"No," Holmes insisted, calmly managing to sound like the bratty aristocrat Jack thought he looked like. "As soon as we are done here, you will continue immediately to evade pursuit, so I must get my say in now."

"Very keen, love!" Sparrow praised wryly, genuinely impressed at having been called out. Most of his lays were easier to sway with sweet nothings than this one. He made one slow slide in to his hilt, then stopped moving altogether to bend close over Holmes and ask, "and what can you deduce about my personage, then?"

From the position of being flat on his back on a wooden table, Holmes' affronted huff and the fanning of his hand were all he could use to combat the pirate's halitosis. Sparrow gave Holmes' slickened hole another slow out-and-in. "Come on, for ol' Jack."

Sparrow's palm, calloused by the work of a seafarer and still bearing his gaudy rings, grazed over the underside of Holmes' penis.

Holmes' breath hitched, and he agreed, "alright."

Sparrow watched, wiggled his hips, and smirked when it looked as though poor Holmes' mind was too far gone, done in by the famous Captain Jack Sparrow's loving, for the man to properly deduce anything.

Then Holmes' eyes shot open again, astute and bright, and he rattled off clinically, "You're a man of the sea, you've travelled far - mainly the Caribbean with a brief visit to the Americas, the southern continent, judging by your tan - and are, altogether, a jolly rogue. But you come from a dark past. That coin, to start, that you enjoy playing with is stolen, but the man you stole it _from_ is now dead, as you yourself should have been long ago."

Jack pulled a face. Feeling his erection wilt as his air of mystery was so thoroughly dissolved, he looked pointedly away from the steely stare and smug face below him. "Whelp," he admitted, "that's about the half of it, then."

"I must say, though" Holmes added with touch of humour, "being fucked by a one hundred and eighty year old pirate is quite the experience. Please, do continue."

With an annoyed set to his jaw, Sparrow acquiesced. He planted his feet a little further apart than before and gave Holmes a few good slams that made the detective squeak.

As he held Holmes' legs to his shoulders and rammed in repeatedly, the peeved pirate muttered, "hundred an' _seventy_."

Holmes opened his mouth to speak, but the first thing that came out of him was a breathless gasp.

"You certainly... don't... look it!" Holmes managed to reply. He felt his backside beginning to chafe.

Indeed, for one hundred and seventy years, Sparrow still had one beast of a constitution.

Jack wasn't ready to finish yet, though. Needing that final dramatic flourish for himself, Sparrow stilled once more, leaving his swollen cock sitting inside Holmes' warm, twitching channel, and deftly produced his piece of Aztec gold from seemingly thin air - though Holmes suspected it was hiding in his weather-beaten, red bandanna the whole time.

"I can tell you're not easily impressed, love," Sparrow told Holmes in his best, most sultry Wooing Voice, "but I'm ready to show you something that will blow your mind."

"Is that a fact," Holmes puffed, quite out of breath.

"Mm," Jack affirmed, a gleam growing in his eye. "A little birdie with a moustache told me you didn't believe in the occult, no sorts of dark majicks. Why might that be, I asked meself? And, I answered, 'of course, he just hasn't seen anything to convince him of what's right below his nose'."

Jack gave them both a long once-over.

"... Or, right between 'is legs, rather," he corrected himself.

"I do suggest," Holmes snipped, "that you either show me what it is now, or resume our activity. My patience is thinning." He tried desperately to move in a way that would give him leverage to ride Sparrow's cock without help.

"Fine! Gor! You're just like all the others,'" Jack exclaimed. "... Except, you, know, for the..." He mimed a squeezy-squeezy motion over his chest.

Holmes rolled his eyes, ready to spit another retort.

"Here," Jack said, and held the coin to the flickering light from the candle that sat above Holmes' head on the table. "Do you know what this is?"

Holmes regarded it. "An early sixteenth-century coin made of solid gold, smelted in a manner which, by today's standards, is considered crude, and etched - quite painstakingly, I might add - into the shape of a Death's Head. Definitely part of a coinage set, as these sort of medallions tended to be commissioned to have counterparts made while the original artist was still alive. Currency is most likely the case. As for its originating location, that would be--"

Sparrow rolled his eyes and grabbed one of Holmes' nipples, roughly.

"Augh!" Holmes jumped, trying to wrench away on instinct and only making the pain worse.

"Alright!" Jack cut him off, "so you know what it is." This bloke ruined all his fun.

When his stinging nipple was free, Holmes said meekly, surprised by the tears welling up, "yes."

Jack smiled patronisingly down at him. "Well, I'm gonna show you what it _does_."

Sparrow took the candlestick with his empty hand and held it over Holmes. He waited, allowing for a long, suspenseful pause...

And tipped his wrist, enjoying the howl as the hot candle wax ran rivulets down Holmes' belly. Quickly, Jack snuffed the candle out.

When Holmes recovered his senses, he thought he'd gone instantly, certifiably insane.

There, in the sole column of moonlight that shimmered into the room, stood Jack Sparrow, a man of bones.

The spectre danced the heavy coin across his knuckles and said, in Jack's hearty voice, "Quite a trick, innit?"

"Where..." Holmes blinked hard to clear his eyes, but the ghastly thing remained there.

Jack's skeletal form bent over him again, its bones becoming misty and obscure as they leaned out of the moonlight. Scratching a pointed finger bone beneath Holmes' scruffy chin, Jack told him, "there, there, love. What is it you want to ask uncle Jack?"

Holmes swallowed around the lump in his throat. Wide eyed and on the verge of uncontrollable shaking, he gasped out, "Where did your pego go?"

The skeleton seemed to blink, stupefied. Sparrow stood straight and looked down, and said, "Well, bugger that... It's also a magic eunuch coin. Never thought of it like that before."

 

* * *

 

_Epilogue:_

Watson wasn't sure what happened to Holmes the night that a phantom attack ship was reportedly seen off the nearby coast. One thing that was certain was that it changed Holmes deeply.

While it worried Watson, concerning Holmes' mental health, that Holmes wailed in terror now when confronted with a sailor's penis, the doctor was rather glad it meant no more sleeping around. Holmes was fully content to stay monogamous now, even when casual sex could have furthered a case.

Granted, Watson was disturbed by the frightened, clinging nature Holmes slipped into at night for months to come.

But what was most strange was how he could always tell when Holmes was about to have a horrific nightmare by the way he sang _"Yo ho, yo ho, and really bad eggs for me..."_ in his sleep.


End file.
